Alexander Ruminates, or The Goat's Tale
by Quod scripsi
Summary: Alexander discovers his latent writing skills and decides to pen a candid narrative about himself, the other Wild Things and Max.  He just wants attention and hopes you will give him the satisfaction.
1. Introduction

Dear Reader,

Thank you for visiting.

Alexander is my favorite Wild Thing - I'll just get that out of the way right up front - and the purpose of this story is to share the awesomeness of Alexander with fellow WTWTA enthusiasts. However, even if Alexander is not your favorite Wild Thing I think you may still enjoy this retelling of the story (with a few added details) told from his point-of-view.

I ask that you please consider posting a review, whether good or bad, as I very much want to know what you think of the story. To the best of my knowledge it is not necessary to sign up or log in to post a review.

Thank you and I hope you enjoy "Alexander Ruminates".

_Disclaimer: I did not create nor do I claim ownership of any of the characters mentioned in this story, and rights for all Wild Things no doubt belong to Mr. Sendak, Mr. Jonze, Mr. Eggers, Hr. Hanks, Warner Brothers, Legendary Pictures, Village Roadshow Pictures, Play tone, their lawyers, their lawyer's wives and husbands, their lawyer's wives' and husband's tennis partners and many, many other people. I own nothing. Much of the storyline is a retelling of Spike Jonze's movie as told from Alexander's point-of-view but I have added a few details not seen in the movie and taken some liberties with the characters._


	2. Angst & Uncertainty

If you really want to hear about it (and with my luck you probably don't) the first thing you might want to know is where I was born, and what my kidhood was like, and about my parents and so on. Well join the club, because that makes two of us. I really want to know all that David Copperfield crap about myself, but I don't even know if I had parents or a kidhood.

Never mind if I wonder "whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or if that station will be held by anybody else"; I just wonder where in the hell I came from and why I don't know things I should know but know other things I shouldn't. There's just never a third-person omniscient narrator around when you need one. _Typical._

But if I'm going to do this writing I've got to start someplace, and since I don't really know where to begin I'll just start with something basic. My name is Alexander and I'm a Wild Thing. Well, I'm not completely sure about that. Not the part about my name, I mean about being a Wild Thing. I'll try to explain. As far as I know I _am_ a Wild Thing, but since I'm not altogether certain what a Wild Thing is how can I know for sure if I am one? But if I'm not a Wild Thing, than what am I? You'd ask that question too, if you ever met me.

Whoever said "know thyself" could have been a bit less cryptic and a lot more helpful and provided at least a few basic clues how best to crack that little chestnut of an aphorism. Seriously, shouldn't a major philosophical cornerstone be something more than a sound bite? I do better with "I think, therefore I am" but that's not really the issue. I'm not questioning my existence, just by origins and taxonomy. Of course I was created – but by whom, and to what end?

This crisis of identify is a recent development, and if a certain person hadn't stumbled into my world I might never have wandered down the yellow brick road of self-awareness. But now that I've nibbled on fruit from the tree of knowledge, so to speak, I want to try for a bigger bite of the apple. I'm just not sure how to go about it. Hopefully this writing will help me sort things out.

Another reason for this writing is because I sometimes have trouble remembering the way things were before. Sure I remember the recent past, but all the time before Max seems almost like waking from a dream or recovering from amnesia. But it can't have been amnesia since I never forgot who I am, or anyone else is, or ended up on a soap opera or anything. It's not easy to explain, and just being able to write things down is comforting. "Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart." That's Wordsworth. I guess he really knew the worth of words, given what they called him and all.

Getting back to Wild Thing; when I see a cat I know it's a cat, and when I see a dog I know it's a dog (by the way don't feed the dogs, they'll only follow you around). But when I see my reflection in the pond I don't know exactly what I am. I'm the only one of my kind there is. In fact, all the Wild Things are like that – just one of each of us. Honestly, accept for KW one each of the others is more than enough for me, thanks very much.

If Wild Thing isn't a species, what is it? How can each of us be a Wild Thing when we're all so different from one another? I guess you've figured out there are others here with me (I'll tell more about them later). Is Wild Thing just a generic label of convenience or is it intended to actually describe us? If so, what is being described? Our physical characteristics? Behavior? State of mind? Diet? Emotional quotient? Tendency to ask too many questions? My guess is some combination of all these things. Or maybe something completely different. Who knows.

The Wild Thing FAQ hounds me like…like…well, like a hound I guess, and uncertainty stalks me like…a…big…stalking thing (damn I need to work on my similes). But the answers are conspicuously MIA. It reminds me of the little blurry specs I see when looking into bright light; try as I will to bring them into focus they scurry to the edge of my vision and remain fuzzy, indistinct specs of who knows what. I think they're actually in my eye but they might as well be a mile away, for all the good it does to try and see them clearly. Why is life long on questions and short on answers?

Honestly, I've never thought of myself as particularly wild. Sure I've been wild and woolly once in a while, sowed a few wild oats and even played the wild card when it suited me, so I suppose the saying "wild is as wild does" may apply a little. But wildness is in the eye of the beholder, and one thing's wild is another thing's mild. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine the search for truth and meaning would end up a wild goose chase. I sure loaded up on sayings and idioms in that paragraph, but now that I've written it wild horses couldn't get me to change it. I'm not wild about editing.

So where did we come from? None of us knows, although we do have a few theories pieced together from dreams and things that just come to us. Douglas has the odd notion we were all supposed to have been horses. Ira thinks we used to have different names which are now forgotten. And I have a reoccurring dream in which a strangely familiar but far away voice says "all are my family – all accept goat boy, of course". Even in my dreams I get no respect, I tell ya, no respect!

As I said, I don't remember being a kid (but if I was a kid bet I was adorable), and can't really recall a time when I was much younger or any different than I am now. Of all the things I don't know not knowing the beginning of things is particularly frustrating. I'm not talking about a general which-came-first-the-chicken-or-the-egg beginning of the universe or anything (and obviously the chicken came first, that's a no-brainer), but about my beginning, and of the other Wild Things here with me.

It's like walking along the beach on a foggy day and trying to see waves on the horizon before they reach the shore. I just can't do it, no matter how hard I concentrate. I can see the waves breaking on the shore and know they existed long before, and at a greater distance, but the unrelenting mist conceals all but the nearest. Of course it's easy to do on a clear day but that sort of ruins the analogy, and I couldn't think of anything else.

So by all means, call me a Wild Thing. Or a Wildish Thing. Or the Thing formerly known as Wild - but of course then you'll have to call me by this little symbol: ©. After all, what's in a name? Better yet, just call me Alexander. Please don't call me Alex, or even worse, Alec. My name is Alexander.

Yes I know my name, but don't when and by whom it was given. That remains a mystery, as does the source of many of the things I know; in fact, _most_ of the things I know. It makes no sense not to know where I came from or even much of my past yet have knowledge of places and things I've never actually experienced. True, much of that knowledge is sketchy and incomplete, but it's still pretty amazing.

Sometimes I wonder if my brains were cut out and mixed up with brains of other beings from distant places, then poured back into my head while I was sleeping. Just thinking about it sends a shiver down my back, from the tip of my horns to the soles of my feet. I should mention that having my brains cut out is one of my worst fears. But if it did happen I guess it wasn't so bad, since I don't remember it. Thanks Max, for putting the idea into my head – I _really_ appreciate it! By the way that last thing I wrote is called sarcasm. I like sarcasm because it's easy to do and really get's the point across.

I'm trying to explain that I and the others have what we call "mysterious knowledge" (MK for short). We don't understand where it comes from or why we have it (unless I'm right about the brain mixing). Really, much of it arrives in dream form. We all dream a lot – some are lucky, some are not. At other times things just pop into my mind in response to something I see or hear, or even for no apparent reason. It's very interesting but also a little frightening. Even Wild Things can be afraid of the unknown.

Along that line, I know about someone called Durkheim who hypothesized a collective consciousness, and someone else called Jung who theorized about the collective unconscious (you'd think they might cancel each other out). Here at least the mysterious knowledge may have explained itself to some extent. Sometimes at night I see what look like stars falling from heaven; maybe the knowledge falls on us the same way. I don't know.

One thing I do know is that what had been a trickle of MK turned into a flood once Max arrived, so it's clearly linked to his world, and apparently even to Max himself. Just wish I understood how. I can almost hear you say "there are more things in heaven and earth, Alexander, than are dreamt of in your philosophy". Don't I know it!


	3. Alexander Introduction

Returning to my name; I know it's derived from the Greek, Aléxandros, which roughly means "protector of men". But I'm not really sure what Greek is. And until very recently I knew almost nothing about men. Mysterious knowledge can be frustratingly incomplete and often without context. Before Max arrived I had only a vague, shadowy idea of men, compliments of MK. Greek is still Greek to me, to borrow from the bard (that's not MK, everyone everywhere knows about _him_), but not so of men. I now have direct knowledge of men. To be more precise, in the singular: about a man. Really a man-cub, also called a boy. But a boy is a kind of a man.

Writing is new to me and I've already gotten things out of order and mentioned Max several times before he comes into the story. I'll definitely tell more about him later. After all, it was Max's arrival that motivated me to do this writing in the first place. Max plays a big part in much of what I plan to write so I guess in a way you could call this a record of Max. No, that doesn't sound right. Just call it Max's record. Yeah, that's better.

I learned new things while Max was here – good and bad things – and also finally understood some of the things I already knew. For instance, I now realize my name is ironic because I didn't do much to protect Max while he was with us. I hate to admit it but I was snarky to him a few times and even tried to make trouble once or twice. I'm still a little ashamed when I think about some of the things I said and did. If only I could have a second chance – I'd do many things differently! I wonder if anyone else has ever felt that way about anything. I did try to protect him a little near the end, but I could have done more. I should have done more.

Before continuing I suppose it makes sense to provide some basic information about myself. I'm male but as you've already figured out, not a man. I'm also not really an animal, at least not any sort of animal that has even been classified. But than again since I'm neither vegetable nor mineral I guess I am technically an animal. As for age, I don't know how many years I've lived, but I'm still young. Call me a young adult. Judith says I can be very immature but I don't think she was talking abut my age. Hell, I might as well be honest. Yes, I can be immature and it's something I really want to improve.

My physical appearance has been called goat-like, and of course everyone knows that a goat is "any of various hollow horned, bearded ruminant mammals of the genus Capra" to cite the definition. At least I know it. Unlike an actual goat I stand upright and walk on two legs, not to mention being able to think, speak and write. I do have two rather impressive curved horns but can't tell if they're hollow – and I hope to God never to find out. I am bearded and my fur is grayish-white, somewhat shaggy, and conveniently extra long in a certain strategic location that needs no further comment.

Ruminant suggests vegetarianism, but since that brings up a thorny topic I'll just skip diet for now.

Mammal hints at sex but that's getting a bit too personal, although I opened the door by declaring myself male. And yes I do know "Wild Thing" is a euphemistic song by something called a Tone Lōc, but if you think I'm going to write about _that_ sort of wild thing you can just guess again. But I am male, trust me. Mammal also suggests live birth, but sadly I have no maternal mammary memories.

Also unlike a goat I have forward looking binocular vision and I think my eyes look more human than anything else. Real goats have eyes more on the sides of their heads which I think is a little creepy.

Goats can also be quite ornery and I don't think that applies to me at all. Maybe I seem irritable now and then, but really, I'm actually quite sunny on the inside. Now if you want to see an ornery Wild Thing just wait because I'll tell you about Carol a little later.

I suppose I'm about six feet tall, but our only unit of measurement on the island is a Douglas and since I don't have a handy conversion chart I can't really say how tall that is; probably tall for a man but short for a Wild Thing.

I'm pretty sure my astrological sign is Capricorn, but I don't really take much notice of all that zodiac stuff. Besides, the idea of a sea goat just sounds too fishy to me. Just thought I'd toss it out there in case you find that sort of thing interesting. Capricorns are supposed to be self-conscious and timid while still craving attention, so just looking at me should tell you how phony it is.

Anyway, Max kept calling me a goat, and being called a goat really used to get my goat, but it doesn't bother me anymore. Especially since I know about something written in an important book called the Bible. In one part a prophet named Daniel wrote about a he-goat and his horn (guess he only had the one – the goat I mean, not Daniel), and the goat represents a kingdom and the freaky uni-horn a king called Alexander the Great (supposedly a real king), who conquered just about everybody when he wasn't much older than what I probably am now. I'll bet everyone listened to him. It's an interesting connection to my name and appearance, so now being called Alexander the Goat is fine with me, assuming Alexander the Great was a true king and not just regular.

By the way, I don't know the origin of the idiom "gets my goat" as used to express irritation, but feel free to look it up.

Not to brag, but I'm fairly intelligent. Even Carol once said so and he never says anything nice about me. Now that I think of it he actually said I'm too smart for my own good. Wait, was _he_ being sarcastic? This might also be the right place to point out that it's not impossible to be both intelligent and gullible. It'll make sense later when I tell about our first meeting with Max. Thinking of that, if anyone ever claims to have a double re-cracker I suggest you demand to see it on the spot. Please learn from our mistake.

It's not easy to describe myself when there's so much about me even I don't know or understand. Honestly, I wish I didn't care about knowing these things. Ignorance is bliss, and all that. I think I'm fairly interesting just on my own, but since I've inherited so many bits and pieces of knowledge from who-knows-where I'm even more so. It's a cliché but I'm definitely one of a kind. Well, the others also have mysterious knowledge, so I'm not one of a kind in that way. I'm not like the others in most other ways. Not just physically, I mean in other ways, too. Skip it, I don't know how to explain.

That's all I can think to tell about me for now. If anything else comes to mind I'll just put it in later. But just to tie up a few loose ends, I realize my knowing things I shouldn't know may not be easy to accept, but that's just how it is. If it bothers you think how it makes me feel! But I'll bet many people know things without knowing how they know them. Anyway, if by some chance you're familiar with the term "willing suspension of disbelief" it might make things much easier.

I'll try to keep this writing orderly and logical but please be patient if I sometimes get things out of order or digress now and then. Don't stand up and start yelling "digression!" at me because for one thing I won't hear you, and for another if I could hear it wouldn't help me in the least. Cut the goat some slack.

Because this writing is partly to help me make sense of things I really hope it ends up a factual, organized account and not some sort of non-traditional, hallucinatory Spike Jonze-type narrative. Just because I live on a mysterious secluded island in an uncharted ocean, possibly in another dimension, or even as a figment of someone's imagination doesn't mean I can't at least try to figure out my place in the universe. I'm jonzing for some truth!

Like I said, writing is new to me. I didn't even know I could write until I saw Max making marks in the sand with his scepter and asked what he was doing. He explained about letters and writing, and to everyone's surprise I picked up a stick and started writing as well. I actually wrote "Max, owner of this world" which just came to me out of the blue. I guess at the time I was still trying to please Max in the hope he would be my friend.

Max's language is called English and he said I and the others are probably speaking a different language called Wilderian, and that in an amazing coincidence the two are exactly the same. That sounded right to me because I remembered something about a Kang or Kodos coming up with a theory of duplicate languages. I think it was called the Simpson Theory. Anyway, it's not important and I only mentioned it because something popped into my mind about a problem if a fox reads this. Silly because I don't know if anyone will ever read this and I don't think the foxes on the island even know how to read.

The mechanics of writing are a bit difficult given that I have large claws rather than actual fingers, so once I write something down it's going to have to stay written because editing is too much work. "Quod scripsi, scripsi" and all that. When I asked Max how to improve at writing he said a teacher told him to remember "there is no good writing, just good re-writing", but I'm pretty much going to ignore that. After all, this writing is for me, to work through things, so if this ends up as one of those horrible stream of consciousness things, so be it. Besides, I don't know if anyone will ever read it. But I'm pretending someone is reading because it helps me concentrate, and I really like the idea of being listened to and not interrupted.

Max told me about paper and after trial and error I was able to make a few sheets by taking thin strips of sticks and soaking them in the pond for a few days, then pressing the mushy mess together and sleeping on top of it to make it flat. Then I trimmed the sheets with my sharpest claw and dried them in the sun. I'm very glad the sun didn't die. Gee, Max, I _really_ appreciate your telling us it will die someday. Yes, more sarcasm, I do love it. By the way paper is really delicious and I ended up eating about half of what I made. It's high in fiber, too.

Pens can be made by heating the pointed end of a stick in the fire, but each one only writes for a little while so I had to make a ton of them. Luckily I'm good at finding sticks. Oh, if anyone ever attacks you with a pointed stick you can use fresh fruit to defend yourself, unless you happen to have a revolver handy. Another reason I'm not changing this writing is because I never figured out how to make an eraser. I tried using a slug once but it made one hell of a mess.

Is it normal for my claws to start to ache about now? I wish there was some sort of machine to make writing easier. Maybe I'll try to build something. For some reason apple tree sticks come to mind. But there are plenty of other kinds of sticks that might work, down in the dell. But I think apple tree sticks are just superior.


	4. The Other Wild Things Introduced

I've mentioned a few of the others here with me, and I should probably tell more about them. They are the other Wild Things on the island, and we are seven: Gilligan, the Skipper too, the millionaire and his wife, the movie star, the Professor and Mary Ann. I'm the Professor. Carol can be Mary Ann. Just kidding. I guess that last bit could be a goat pun…but it's not. I'm just giving another example of the spectacularly useless bits of info that, for some reason, I have in abundance. But what the hell is a Gilligan?

Did I mention I like to joke around? Yes, this writing project is serious but I plan to try and have some fun with it. I have a pretty good sense of humor; I have to in order to deal with the others and constantly being belittled and ignored. I swear it's a miracle I'm so well-adjusted and still sane. By the way, I wrote a few knock-knock jokes about the others; maybe I'll tell them later.

I think our island is amazing, almost like a mini continent. It has spectacular diversity of scenery – verdant forests, sandy beaches, arid dunes, rocky canyons – and all within convenient walking distance. It even has a really cool giant red rock thingy in the middle. There are other non-Wild Thing animals here with us, but really they're like extras. Oh, Douglas has a cat named Timber. He's a good cat.

As I was saying, there are seven in our…herd? Or is it pack? Colony, drove, pride, murder? What is the collective noun for Wild Things? I'll go with tribe. So, seven in our tribe: Carol, KW, Judith, Ira, Douglas, the Bull and yours truly. I guess we're a family of sorts, although we're more different than alike. KW says we put the fun in dysfunctional. I want to tell more about the others but I'm afraid my own likes, dislikes, prejudices and experiences may creep in. However, I'll do my best to be dispassionate, factual and unbiased.

Carol is an obnoxious jackass. Not that he looks like a donkey, because he doesn't, but in that he sometimes acts like an unadulterated, first-class, dyed-in-the-wool jackass. Unlike some of us he doesn't resemble any animal I can think of, unless a hideous troll is an animal. He is very tall, extremely strong and surprising agile given his size. To be fair, when it comes to designing and building things he has some talent. Apparently he built an impressive model city but has not offered to let me see it (not that I wanted to). I suppose Carol has a few good traits but I've rarely experienced any of them, and most of the time he just ignores me. And that's OK because frankly he scares me a little.

Katharine (or KW as we call her) is wonderful. Since I know she'll never read this I can confess I really love KW and dream of spending more time with her. I've tried to let her know how I feel but just end up saying the dumbest things when she's around. The night Max arrived I was nervous and actually suggested she could carry me like a little baby! What the hell was I thinking? I envy Bob and Terry when she carries them around. Why does she like her stoner friends more than me? Despite my attempts to get to know her better she seems disinterested in me. She very slightly resembles Carol but is much better looking, and also does not bring to mind any animal comparisons, with the exception of her water fowl feet. I think she's beautiful. KW often leaves the group (I mean tribe) for long stretches, something I think about doing but almost never do.

Judith is the only other female. She can be a bit intense and won't hesitate to tell you what's on her mind. We have a special bond and I know she cares about me, even thought she often ignores or interrupts me as much as the others do. I've never known for certain what a mother is but for some reason there's something at my core that makes me want to have a mother, and Judith is the closest thing I'll probably ever know. One time when Max was talking with KW I overheard him telling her about his mother. I almost cried. Anyway, Judith is extremely outspoken and can also be a real downer sometimes. She looks fierce, certainly like what a Wild Thing should. Picture a rhino-inspired center horn along with two head horns and a large number of very sharp teeth. She does have beautiful long hair.

I used to like Douglas well enough, until he nearly killed me with dirt clods the size of Connecticut. Dirt clods my furry ass, those things had _rocks_ in them! Actually, I'm not angry about it anymore, not really. And he was just following orders. Avian clearly describes Douglas, but not in a good way. Think chicken rather than eagle. Still, he's level headed and a great builder of things. He's smart and I think he was the only one besides me to work out something was rotten in Denmark (I mean about Max). I've wanted to ask him just what he knew and when he knew it but never have. I only wish he wouldn't yield to Carol so much; but then again, look what happened the one time he did stand up to Carol. Many times I was tempted to take a stand but after what poor Douglas got it's unlikely I ever will. This goat is very fond of his appendages, and although I like sticks I don't want to adopt one as part of my anatomy. Something terrible happened to Douglas which I'll explain later. Let's just hope his arm really will grow back. We tell ourselves it will.

Ira is…I don't know – in the background? For the most part he is kind and gentle, and he's a good influence on Judith. In fact, they've become very close. I can't fully explain it but I sometimes feel resentment toward Ira. Just like I've never known a mother I've also never known a father (where _did_ I came from?), but I can't help feeling Ira is attempting to replace my non-existent father, which makes absolutely no sense. Ira tends to offer unsolicited advice which, while well intentioned, irritates me to no end. In some ways Ira is the most human looking in the group (sorry, tribe) and I can't think of any animal comparisons, other than perhaps a big-nosed bear with yak fur instead of bear fur. For some weird reason he is obsessed with making large holes in trees. I hate trees so he can put holes in all of them if he wants. Is it odd that I like sticks but don't like trees? I never thought about it until now.

The Bull somehow lost track of his right name (I think it's Daniel), but then again the Bull suits him just fine. He certainly looks more like a bull than I do a goat, except for his goofy non-bull feet. It's funny how we can live around someone and yet know very little about them. I've only ever heard him speak about two dozen words and he keeps to himself more than KW, but without actually leaving the group (I mean tribe). Really, he's just part of the scenery most of the time. But he doesn't seem to care if we don't notice him. Maybe I should make an attempt to get to know him better. After all, he doesn't ignore me any more than he does the others, which is a good sign. He's shy and tends to groan quite a lot, probably more than he realizes. But I think he pays closer attention to things than we sometimes give him credit.

I may as well mention that everyone is taller than me; two by a little and the other four by quite a lot. Thankfully my horns add height. At least when Max was around I was taller than someone for a change. Trust me, being the shortest gets old. I'm constantly having to look up at the others and can perfectly describe their nostril interiors in exquisite, nauseating detail. It's like I'm an ENT. If somewhere there is a truly evil handkerchief that commits murder or something and needs to go to handkerchief hell it can just be sent to Carol's nose.

I'm not only the shortest in our group (I mean tribe) I'm also the smallest and certainly the thinnest. Seriously, you don't want to be at the bottom of a pile with them on top. As far as looks go it's not that the others are ugly or anything, but my rugged goat looks are hard to beat. I'm not vain, just truthful. It's my narrative and I'll damn well write what I want. It's not like any of the others will ever see this, and I'll keep it well hidden. I'd look a lot better if someone would lather me up from head to foot with Mane 'n Tail shampoo and then give me a good brushing. My fur could be as soft as Mohair. And my ear fur needs trimmed. That's probably too much information…let's move on.


	5. When Worlds Collide

I think that's enough background. Now it's time to talk of cabbages and kings. That's an odd phrase, and I don't know what they have in common, other than both are edible. Ever had king slaw? That's a joke. Read on, I'll get to menu items a little later.

Anyway, I want to write about the night we found our once and _former_ king. Well, not really night but pre-dawn morning. We're nocturnal much of the time. And technically Max found us. Sorry, none of that even matters.

It was the time Carol went off the rails even more spectacularly than usual. I mean it was the craziest I'd ever seen him…up till then. I still don't know what his major malfunction was but it started when KW suddenly left. I think they had an argument. The rest of us were also a little miffed by her wanting to spend more and more time with her new friends, Bob and Terry (we hadn't yet met her owl friends and I'll tell more about them later), but Carol really had a problem with it. So he very kindly decided to make everyone suffer. What a sport.

Living on a remote island means no real creature comforts (in fact, it's as primitive as can be), but being a Wild Thing means you tough it out. We had built a few simple mud and stick huts which weren't going to end up on the cover of _Better Huts and Gardens_ but which were reasonably comfortable. I liked my hut. We put a lot of work into them, and I know I gathered up about ten million sticks during the build. Did I mention I'm good at finding sticks? I probably shouldn't because it's really not much of a talent. There are tons of them just lying around and you'd have to be blind not to find them in the woods. I think I like sticks because they're parts of trees that have fallen off.

Getting back to what I was saying; Carol was mad as hell and decided he wasn't going to take it anymore and the best way to work through his problems with KW was to smash the huts. I never really thought it was much of a plan, but I try to fit into the group (I mean tribe) whenever possible and hoped humoring him might somehow redirect his anger away from the huts. So against my better judgment I offered to help.

Looking back I can see it was a bad idea. I don't like to admit it but I sometimes have trouble saying no, and this might have been a good time to have started. But then again, if I had tried to stop him I might now be missing a horn or have something like a large garden gnome inserted deep inside me. Who knows where Carol's faulty thinking might lead. At one point he very literally accepted my faint-hearted offer to help and hurled me against a hut. Have I mentioned Carol can be a jackass?

Carol's tantrum was bad enough but the night was about to go from chaotic and stressful to full blown weird. Other animals can't normally sneak up on us very easily since most of us have excellent hearing and keen senses of smell, and I guess it happened because we were distracted by Mr. Jackass and his braying. I mean that guy should have someone named Balaam riding around on him, or be booked to open _Hee Haw_. Seriously.

Without warning a strange little creature smashed through the back wall of a hut and into the center of the clearing! This of course was Max. Since I've already mentioned him a few times I sort of lost the opportunity to fully develop any drama at this point, but I can tell you it was pretty damn dramatic at the time. However, none of us could have imagined how different everything would be from that moment – including Max. Just as he destroyed that hut wall he would in many ways destroy our world, our perceptions and to some degree, our hearts. I don't mean he literally destroyed all these things. I'm just trying to be dramatic here since I screwed up the chance to do it earlier. But he did change everything.

I want to take a moment to set the record straight about this event just in case you may have somehow heard an alternate version. I did not scream like a terrified schoolgirl as was suggested by one or more of the others present that night. I vigorously sounded the alarm with great purpose, and if it looked like I was shrieking in terror when Max suddenly appeared then all I can say is that in the confusion of the moment my actions were misinterpreted. At least that's how I remember it. Now let us never speak of it again.

At this point we had no earthly idea what the thing was, where it came from and what it might do next. It walked on two legs, like us, instead of on four, but didn't really resemble anything I'd ever seen. Actually (and this is a strange thing to admit) for a second it almost reminded me of myself because of its size, slender build and light colored fur, but of course without horns (can you imagine not having horns? – freak show!). Anyway, it almost looked like a smaller version of me, but as I said without horns and with a longer tail. Wait, I didn't say anything about the tail. But now I have. By the way my tail is a little on the short side, like a goat's tail. I have no idea what a tail is for, but it does cover my…never mind.

The thing's body was fury but the face part was smooth and pinkish, like my paw pads, and it didn't have any claws on its hands. It had small pointy ears, crooked black whiskers and strange little round things down its front. Honestly, my next impression was that it was a giant mouse or hamster.

It ran around screaming and whacking things with a big stick before running into a hut and knocking itself down. For about half a minute everyone was dead quite. Then Carol walked up to the thing and it made a noise that almost sounded like "hello". Carol sniffed at the creature and it sniffed back. We all watched in silence as Carol and the thing looked each other over. I was relieved when it didn't shoot venom or a stink spray or anything. It's interesting to note Carol seemed drawn to it from the very beginning. Next he chuckled and told the thing he liked its demo work – and the thing clearly said "thanks". Now I wondered if it was a large _talking_ mouse. I think a large talking mouse is about the very last thing I ever hope to see. That would be one icky mouse!

There was at least one silver lining to the creature turning up; it had distracted Carol from destroying the huts and two or three (including mine) had survived. But knowing Carol I shouldn't have been surprised when the very next thing he did was challenge the creature to a hut smashing contest. Great, not only would the remaining huts also be destroyed it would be done by a weird talking rodent thing.

So Carol ran in one direction and the creature – you know I'm just going to start calling him Max since I already mentioned his name about ten times already – then Max ran the other way and tried to smash The Bull's hut. When The Bull came out and groaned at him Max finally stopped acting crazy and stood still. Douglas started asking questions and got a little sharp with him, and Judith asked if he was Bob or Terry. Once Judith got involved I knew what the probable outcome for Max would be. We started circling which is when I think Max realized he wasn't in Kansas anymore.

Everything really went south from there, thanks mostly to Judith. She never gave Max a chance to explain who he was and why he had come. Judith doesn't like to try to resolve conflicts and her default solution is basically to eat anything she'd rather not deal with. I think there's a time and place for at least trying diplomacy but Judith's idea of finding middle ground is to make sure anything she doesn't like or trust finds her middle ground – from the inside. I mean her stomach, in case that was sort of unclear.

Again, it wouldn't be my recommendation to immediately ingest any new arrival without at least attempting introductions. But at the time I didn't have any reason to stop it and probably couldn't have even if I'd wanted to. Guess there was a little something like mob mentality at work. I know what you're thinking: "don't tell me that you're innocent, because it insults my intelligence". Hell, there may be some truth to that.


	6. Max, Kibble or King?

Earlier I said anything having to do with eating was a thorny issue, and now you know why. Wild Things are near the top of the food chain on the island so we really don't think about what it's like to have someone eat you for just about any reason, or even no reason. I'm afraid we're a little to hasty to chow down first and ask questions later rather than attempt real problem solving. I mean, piss us off (especially Judith) and wham – down the hatch. Not so much me because remember I'm not as wild as the others, and anyway I prefer a good salad most of the time. But to tell the truth I've participated in a few eat-something-rather-than-deal-with-it incidents in the past. It's not something I'm proud of and I don't plan to do it again. I should check out EA or something.

Really, we'd never eaten anything like Max. Well, there was this one hideous, semi-man looking thing a bit smaller than Max that kept talking about precious something or other. It was clearly evil and needed eating. It tasted a little middle-earthy.

I remember a large, silly white rabbit that went on and on about kids stealing its tricks or some such nonsense (like young goats would even care about some crazy, wild hare). It did stay surprisingly crunchy in milk.

Lets see, a crab with a phony accent that washed up on the beach and really irritated Judith by singing some awful song about living under the sea (we _know_ you lived under the sea, you were a crab).

What else…a large, pear-shaped purple lizard that was clearly in denial because it kept saying it loved us, and we loved it, right up until the end. Sure, Judith loved it but not the way it meant. I thought it tasted sickeningly sweet, like treacle.

There was the lackadaisical bear with a serious honey habit and a little piglety thing that showed up with a depressed gray donkey. We let the donkey go, he was just too sad to eat, and we liked his dry sense of humor. Of course Carol could never have eaten the jackass – professional courtesy and all. Ira said the bear thing tasted a bit dungy so I'm glad I skipped it.

That's about it…other than a couple hundred small marshmallowly blue things with white tops and bottoms which tasted like berries and never stopped screaming gibberish that sounded like variations of one word. Something about surfing. I guess they went out of season because I haven't seen any in a while.

I've made my point; we'd never eaten anything like Max before. Possibly because we'd never seen anything like him, but I prefer to think in the end we would have realized he was too interesting to eat. But Max believed we planned to eat him which is what led to the start of all our problems. Poor Max, when I think about it from his perspective I can understand why he did what he did. I don't completely excuse it, but I understand it. Still, the joke around here is "how can you tell when Max is lying? His lips are moving". That's a little Wild Thing humor.

Rather than go gently into that good night Max somehow summoned his wits, and in a more commanding voice than we ever expected cried out two words I'll never forget – "be still!" We all froze and I don't know who was more surprised, Max or us. Even Carol who hadn't joined our flanking maneuvers took notice and began to walk toward us. For whatever reason Max's tactic had worked to buy him time, and he used that time to decide how to survive.

If only he'd been honest and told us he was just a boy, and appealed to our better nature. I know we would have spared him, and probably even looked after him. But his decision was to lie. And I don't mean little white lies like when I tell the others I don't think Carol is a jackass, I mean great whopping lies that grow and multiply until the truth is trampled into dust.

But it's easy for me to say this when I wasn't standing where Max was. Really, I don't know what I would have done in his place. In a way we brought all this on ourselves by letting Max think we would eat him…and then not actually eating him. I mean, if we had carried through that would have been an end to it right then and there. Huh…well that ship has sailed.

Judith asked why shouldn't we eat him, and I thought well that's it, he's a goner now for sure. Max hesitated, but only a moment. And then he told us about his powers from another land, from ancient times – and that he was prepared to show us. I didn't like the sound of that.

Max talked about terrible giants called Vikings (the bastards wore horned hats and I don't want to think about how they got the horns) which he had single-handedly defeated while defending his ice fortress. He exploded their giant heads! Even we can't explode giant heads. I don't think we can explode regular size heads. How could we compete with power like that?

Then came the thing that saved his bacon and really got Carol's attention; he used the "k" word – king.

I still had my doubts but when Max told us he had a double re-cracker which could blast his power through anything in the universe I started to wonder if he might be telling the truth. It sounded plausible, and who would lie about having a double re-cracker? A regular single re-cracker, maybe, but a double? I mean you just don't expect any reasonable person to lie about something like that.

Still, even a little doubt is enough, and I wanted to ask a few follow up questions but decided to wait and see what developed. Judith started to ask more questions and also seemed skeptical but Carol shut her down, and she actually kept quiet. Crazy king craving Carol coveted a king – and at last he was going to have a real one.

Douglas asked Max if he could keep out all the sadness, and when Max said he had a sadness shield big enough for all of us and could also explode loneliness, we all heard what we wanted to. The tender seeds of belief had sprouted and would grow until plucked up, roots and all. That last part is figurative; Max didn't actually bring any seeds or plant anything.

But that little voice in my mind still whispered maybe all this was BS, and despite the risk of crossing Carol I decided to say something. I said Max didn't look like a king, and if he could be king then maybe so could I. Not that I wanted to be king, or even thought we needed a king – I was just making a point. I'll never forget the look Max gave me when I said that. It started the two of us out on bad terms and Max would certainly remember my questioning his kingship, and even repay me a little. But Judith quickly shushed me. I never asked if she was just interrupting me out of habit or trying to protect me from Carol. It can be hard to know when Judith is being nice.

Max really piled it on and told us he had been a king in his land for 20 years. At the time we didn't know he was just a boy. He was the first human we'd actually met, don't forget. The first live one, anyway. Were we naïve? Does a one legged duck swim in a circle? But in our defense it's not too difficult to deceive a bunch (I mean tribe) of Wild Things that live a simple life on an isolated island.

At one point Max pushed back the fur from his head and the attached ears and whiskers with it. It really freaked me out but then I realized he didn't actually have fur but was wearing some sort of costume. I think it was supposed to be a dog or wolf. That should have given us another clue. I mean, how many kings run around in what looks like a homemade wolf suit? But hindsight is 20/20 and all.

KW came back just then which seemed a good omen. Maybe Max did have powers and could pull off this king business. I shouted hello to her but as usual she didn't seem to notice me. She asked about Max and I stuck my foot in my mouth and said I'd tell her about the new king if we went for a walk, and that she could carry me like a baby. It was a feeble attempt at humor but ended up sounding awkward, not to mention a little creepy. If you've ever said something that came out wrong and then immediately regretted it than you know what I mean.

Then she asked about a missing stick and instead of cutting my losses and keeping quiet I blurted out I was good at finding sticks and would help her look for it. I thought she was talking to me since she knows I'm good at finding sticks. We've established it's not terribly difficult but I am still the best at finding them.

Anyway, KW was in time for the coronation of King Max I. Although I don't think we knew his name then; in fact, I can't think when he told us his name which is odd because I distinctly recall KW shouting "look out, Max!" when Carol nearly jumped on him later that morning during our wilding in the woods. Well it's not important and may be just a continuity error in my memory. We all just called him king much of the time.

Carol and the Bull walked Max toward the fire pit as the rest of us stood together and watched. Ira seemed almost giddy with excitement and said Max was going to make us happy, and Judith answered with something that sounded odd, something like happiness wasn't always the best way to be happy. At the time it didn't make much sense to me…and frankly it still doesn't. I should ask her to explain.

Then Judith seemed to read my mind and said Max was small for a king. I tried to remind them I had said the same thing not five minutes before, but Judith just told me to be quiet. No one ever wants to hear what I think. I swear, Mister Cellophane shoulda been my name.

The Bull and Carol retrieved the scepter and crown from the fire and in doing so uncovered something that clearly gave Max an unpleasant surprise. I'm talking about the skeletons in the fire. Max nervously asked if the bones were prior kings and for one long moment all seven of us collectively held our breath. Carol's eyes darted back and forth as he stammered out the lamest explanation imaginable. He told Max the bones were there before we arrived and he didn't know anything about them – and then immediately contradicted himself by adding he had never seen them before! It was so bogus I rolled my eyes until they hurt.

I watched Max, just waiting for him to run like hell since it was obvious Carol was lying about the bones, but to my surprise he seemed to buy Carol's feeble explanation. Carol, crown in hand, asked if he was OK and Max actually smiled and said he was. I guess that stupid pointy crown went to his head. Up till then he seemed fairly bright but now I wondered if he suffered from Clue Deficit Disorder. I shrugged and thought how gullible Max was, which of course in hindsight is unbelievably ironic considering the bill of goods he had just sold all of us. So apparently we can all have CDD now and then.

Wait, I need to review my prior writing for a second. Damn, I need to explain about the bones! Keeping things organized while writing is harder than I expected. I wish Dave was here to give me a few pointers. Now I have to do a flash back thingy.


	7. Flash Back to Alexander's Plan

I like to take long hikes in the mountains on the far side of the island, and one day about six months before Max arrived I lost my way and ended up in an area I'd never been to before. Long story short, I found a small hidden valley and decided to explore. While looking around something shiny caught my eye, so I took a closer look and found a strange object partially covered by vines. What I saw scared me a little so I didn't want to get too near the thing.

Later I ran into Douglas and told him about the strange thing in the valley and the next day we decided to investigate. We returned to the valley, and after clearing away the vegetation found the strangest object we'd ever seen.

It was made of some kind of metal and had a few openings in the sides. The main part was hollow and looked something like an elongated hut. It had a large flat fin or wing-like thing attached to one side, and on one end was a pointy thing with two smaller arms which were bent in a strange way, like it must have been moving in a circle and hit something. It looked very old, like it had been there for a long time. We knew the thing was some sort of flying machine, and after looking at it for a few seconds both said almost simultaneously "air plane". Good old mysterious knowledge for the save. Then I pointed and shouted "ze plane! ze plane!" and we laughed – I have no idea in the hell why.

We peeked inside and saw something that made us jump. Bones! In fact, many bones, some of which were still connected to each other. It was a skeleton. No, two skeletons! And not like any animal skeletons we'd seen. The head bones were rounded and without horns. The teeth were small and fairly smooth. Clearly these things had walked upright on two legs like us. On the hands where the claws should have been were a cluster of small but complicated looking bones. Of course I now know what these poor things were, but at the time we had no idea, only that these dead beings had made the flying thing and crashed it on the island long ago.

As we studied the bones I couldn't help but think what Carol would say when we told him. It was kind of funny how all this time he'd been waiting for mystical beings to appear and when it finally happens, they're dead! Suddenly an idea came to mind. Why not use these bones to stop Carol talking about finding a king?

Wait, now I have to tell about something that happened before the part I'm writing about now. A flash back within a flash back – is that even allowed?

We had tried different forms of self-governance but everything attempted was a dismal failure. You might not understand unless you live in a place with an out-of-control government made up of belligerent, backbiting Wild Things that spend all their time and energy jockeying for power in order to advance their own special interests at the expense of everyone else.

For the most part all of us agreed Carol should just take over leadership (I wasn't thrilled about it but he is the strongest), but he never really tried very hard. Then he decided the only solution was to find someone else to be king, someone powerful, wise and outside the group (damn it, tribe) that could save us from ourselves. We thought it was just a phase he was going through but he was like a dog with a bone. It was king this and king that until we were all sick and tired of hearing about it. Only Carol seemed not to realize that no magical king was going to miraculously appear and agree to rule over a pack (sonuvabitch! TRIBE!) of squabbling, unruly Wild Things with a history of eating anything that even hinted at conflict.

We were all weary of him harping about a king, and when Carol wasn't around talked about ways of making him deal with our problems now, on our own, with him as leader. But no viable solution even came to light and there didn't seem to be a way we could convince Carol to take his leadership role more seriously, at least nothing all six of us could agree on.

Now I'm returning to the first flash back.

I told Douglas we should take the skeletons with us because I had an idea that might just get Carol to shut up about the whole king thing. At first he didn't want to go along with it (he is Carol's best friend), but in the end he agreed. I think his motives were purer than mine, and he only wanted to make Carol take his leadership role more seriously. I have to admit my motives were at least a little ulterior; the thousand injuries of Carol I had borne as I best could, but when he ventured upon ignoring me all the damn time, and so on. Anyway, for whatever reason Douglas agreed to try my plan.

The bones had flat ropes holding them in place and since Douglas couldn't fit through the openings in the side of the plane he said I had to go in and loosen the ropes. I didn't want to and suggested we find Richard or another raccoon to help but Douglas called me a chicken, and being called chicken by someone that looks like a big chicken is just something you can't back down from. It was creepy but I managed to get inside and loosen the flat ropes.

I found a few large sticks and made a stretcher to hold the bones and we carried them to our side of the island and hid them near the huts. Luckily Carol was at his sanctum sanctorum, playing with his toy city or whatever, and didn't see us. I should have explained Carol often spends time away from the tribe (ha!) in his private studio place a few miles from the huts (sort of hypocritical of him to complain when KW went away for a few days).

Anyway, whenever he was away for a day or two the first thing out of his mouth when he saw us again was how we needed a king. I swear it made me think about head-butting him in the gut with my horns. Not that I ever would, he could snap me like a twig. I'm stronger than I look but am no match for Carol.

Getting back to the plan; Douglas and I knew we had to take the others into our confidence which was problematic because we didn't know if they would go along with it. And if they did want to, I wasn't certain they could all keep the secret. I don't know why conspiracy theories are so popular because really, a conspiracy with more than two or three conspirators is almost always doomed to fail. But it had to be all or none for this plan to succeed.

We approached KW first and she readily agreed to join. She said it was time the rest of us tried to do something as a team and thought it would be a good joke, if nothing else. Also, I think she was a bit irritated with Carol at the time.

I told the plan to Judith and at first she just put her hands on her hips and scowled at me with that what-the-hell-are-you-talking-about-Alexander look that she does so well. Then she smiled and said she was in. Of course she went on to say it probably wouldn't work, would be a disaster and that we might all end up maimed or dead, but she would give it a go. She can be a downer.

Once Judith agreed Ira came onboard without a word. That nose ring is well and truly in place.

I told the plan to the Bull but it probably wouldn't have made any difference if I hadn't. He just silently went along with us and never commented or asked any questions. Like I said, part of the scenery.

Later we all got together and went over the plan in more detail. We all agreed it was a long shot but still thought it worth a try if it might stop Carol droning on about a king and step up to the plate as leader. And if it failed…well, I for one would be moving to the far side of the island for the foreseeable future. If Carol found out I had masterminded the plan I might just get to find out if my horns are hollow. Or worse.

Alexander's Great Caper was mission ready! That's clever you see because "caper" is Latin for goat, and I worked in "great" plus a military reference. To suggest I'm like Alexander the Great because he was a good strategist. Of course he wasn't Roman so it doesn't completely work. No? Nothing? Crickets chirping…and there goes tumbleweed. OK, moving on.


	8. The Plan Begun

Just before sunrise we cleaned and polished the bones to make them white again, then sprinkled on a little blood and gore like they had just been killed and…you know. Yes, it's gruesome, and the poor weird creature Douglas found and…um…harvested for the…material certainly didn't like the plan. It was green, very foul tempered and washed up in a round metal container. Good timing for us, bad for it. But I swear to God, we didn't eat it! Partly because it smelled funny. Anyway, we prepped the bones and put them near the fire pit with the crown and scepter.

Judith and Ira went off on their own (which they often do to make goo-goo eyes at each other), and the Bull left for his usual mud bath in the ravine. This would leave the hut area seemingly deserted and ensure Carol would be the one to find the bones. Douglas, KW and I waited until we saw Carol coming down the hill from his studio and then hid behind one of the huts.

At first Carol went to his hut for a while but soon came out into the clearing and looked around. I guess he wondered why the place was deserted since at least a few of us were usually at the huts, especially in the morning. Carol yawned, scratched himself a few times, then finally looked toward the fire pit – and froze.

He stood there not moving a muscle for at least half a minute, his mouth open and his eyes big and round. I had to almost cram my fist into my mouth to keep from laughing. It was the first time I ever saw Carol shocked and it was so satisfying. KW looked at me with an expression I didn't quite understand. But I couldn't ask her what she was thinking because Carol might overhear.

Carol composed himself and very slowly walked toward the skeletons. He sniffed them and then hesitantly picked up the crown. He turned it over in his hands a few times, just staring at it in disbelief, then dropped it and sat down – almost fell, really – onto one of the big logs near the fire pit. It was priceless!

Now it was time for Douglas to open our little drama. He walked toward Carol, sort of whistling nonchalantly, and when Carol quickly stood up Douglas pretended to be startled, as if he hadn't seen Carol and didn't expect him to be there. Then Douglas started his performance in earnest, and I must say he didn't lay an egg. He was very convincing.

Douglas quickly stammered something like "Carol, what…why are you back so early? I…I didn't expect you for a while! I thought I had…time...to…" and just sort of trailed off in mid-sentence. It was great! That bird is finger lickin' good. I mean about his acting – what did you think I meant?

Carol of course wanted to know about the bones and Douglas sort of looked at the ground and ran his hand over his head feathers, but didn't say anything. Carol was visibly shaken and I didn't like the look in his eyes. He can loose control at the drop of a hat, and even though Douglas is his best friend I started to worry what Carol might do.

Time for Alexander to enter, stage right.

I swallowed hard, flashed the crossed claws "good luck" sign to KW, slipped silently from behind the hut and stealthily skirted around the perimeter to enter just behind the fire pit. At this point I started to think maybe the plan wasn't such a great idea, but it was too late now. The curtain was up and I had to go on. Besides, I couldn't leave Douglas twisting in the wind.

I approached at an angle that deliberately kept Carol behind a tree and out of my line of sight but allowed me to see Douglas, and him to see me. As I got closer I said in a loud, frantic whisper "Douglas, come on, we've got to clean everything up before Carol…" and then stopped suddenly and sucked in my breath real hard when I saw Carol step around the tree. I even took a few steps back and put my hands to my mouth like I was stunned and afraid to see him there. To tell the truth, it wasn't all acting.

Carol was now fully wound up and shouting at both of us. He demanded to know what in the hell was going on and implied that Douglas and I might seriously regret what could happen next if we didn't start explaining. Up till that time Carol had made threats but never actually resorted to physical violence, but it was frightening nonetheless.

I put my hands up, and in my best timid, cringing voice said "Carol, please…please calm down! We're sorry! It just happened b-before we knew what we were doing! We're so sorry!" I hammed it up quite nicely.

Douglas said "Alexander, be quite!" which was very realistic since he and the others say that to me all the time. "Let me handle this" he added.

Then Judith and Ira wandered in and both did a decent job of seeming shocked and surprised to see Carol so angry and shouting at Douglas and me.

Douglas looked at Carol for several seconds, sighed, and then shook his head like he just couldn't bring himself to speak. Judith fidgeted and said she and Ira had only stopped by to get something from her hut and they both turned to leave, but Carol snorted and then growled a little which stopped them in their tracks.

Then I realized KW hadn't yet joined us. While going over the plan we had decided Douglas would take the lead but that all of us would straggle in once he had started talking to Carol. I looked toward the hut where I supposed she must still be hiding but didn't see her.

At last Douglas started talking. I don't recall word for word what Douglas said but he started by reminding everyone that Carol had spent the night at his studio. He then set the stage for the rest of the story by telling Carol that while we was away something very unusual had happened to the rest of us at the hut compound.

The story was this: while the six of us were sitting around the fire talking about how much we admired Carol and wishing he would take his leadership role more seriously, a bright light flashed overhead and something that sounded like a million buzzing bees descended from the moonless sky. A vertical shaft of blue light appeared in the clearing and from it emerged two of the strangest beings any of us had ever seen. One was about my height, the other a bit shorter, and they stood upright like us.

The taller one was covered with gold and silver fur. On its hornless head was a crown and in its clawless hand it help a scepter. It was frightening but regal in appearance. The other alien closely resembled the first but had less impressive looking fur and no crown or scepter. It seemed to be an attendant or something.

Now, had strange beings like these actually appeared in the middle of a dark night I'm fairly certain we wouldn't have all just stood around calmly looking at them; at least I know I wouldn't have. I think you would have seen six Wild Thing-shaped blurs disappear into the night. Luckily Carol didn't question our make-believe bravery and seemed utterly transfixed by Douglas' tale.

Our fictional alien beings glided toward us and the one with the crown said "behold, I am your king, come to reign over you. Take me to the one called Carol for I must challenge him in mortal combat for control of this kingdom." Douglas did an excellent job rendering the being's otherworldly voice and I could see Carol was buying the story, unbelievable as it was. At one point I had to pretend to cough to keep from laughing.

Douglas paused and looked away like he just couldn't tell what happened next, and the rest of us also looked away or down at the ground. I tugged nervously at my beard and tried to look guilty. Douglas ran his hand back and forth over his head feathers. Judith sort of kicked at the ground in a fidgety way, and Ira put his hands up to his eyes like he was trying hard not to remember something. The Bull had silently joined us and now stood at a distance, groaning in a way that sounded almost remorseful. Only KW was missing and I was getting nervous. Where was she?

Carol looked at each of us, read our body language and then gasped. His eyes widened and he looked toward the bones. "What did you do? _What did you do_?" he finally stammered. He tried to look each of us in the face but seemed unable to take his eyes away from the skeletons which now glistened in the early morning sun.

Finally I saw KW approaching from behind the hut. Carol quickly turned as he heard the steps and looked at her with a nervous, pleading look. She met his gaze for a moment, cleared her throat as if to speak but said nothing. She slowly walked past Carol without looking at him again and joined the rest of us standing opposite.

At last Douglas resumed the story. He said that after regaining his composure he had taken a few steps toward the alien and demanded to know why it thought it had the right to be our king and challenge Carol to a fight. Douglas added that Ira, Judith and KW had also advanced while asking questions, as did I a moment later while keeping my distance. I didn't appreciate Douglas adding that little detail because it made me sound like I was afraid. But to be honest it's probably what I would have done if actually in that situation because I'm smaller than the others and often guard the rear. I'm not a coward, just very practical, and keeping Judith between me and any danger just makes good sense. Call it goat sense.

Carol listened with rapt attention and seemed not to doubt any part of the story so far. Douglas continued and said the alien king narrowed its evil, reptilian eyes, scowled and pointed the scepter at us, shouting something like "how dare you question your king? Bow before me or I will exact a terrible penalty! As for the one you call Carol, I will destroy him so that I may reign over you lesser creatures without fear of reprisal".

Douglas paused while we all looked at Carol. I saw only astonishment in his eyes. I could just imagine what was going through his mind; he had wanted a king and against all odds one had arrived – but not the benevolent, gracious king he had supposed but an arrogant tyrant willing to destroy the very Wild Thing that had longed for a king in the first place. That is, if Carol was buying the fantastic story now unfolding, and by all appearances he was.

I should mention that as Douglas told the story Judith, Ira and I made little noises and one-word declarations of confirmation which seemed to convince Carol he was hearing the truth. But much of the credit goes to Douglas. Really, he did a far better job of it than I might have expected. In fact, all of us did a pretty good job in the drama department. Only KW remained silent. Otherwise it was a flawless opening night for The Wild Thing Community Theatre.

Douglas, having paused for effect, resumed the story. In a voice filled with energy and emotion he said that when the would-be king dared to threaten Carol all of us reacted in an instant. We roared our terrible roars, gnashed our terrible teeth, rolled our terrible eyes and showed our terrible claws (Douglas was in fine form now), and fell en masse upon the aliens and tore them to pieces! Then he sort of suggested that some frenzied…um…banqueting might have gone on.

By the way, our roars, teeth, eyes and claws really aren't that terrible; especially mine. But then again I suppose we would look pretty fierce to humans. Humans don't have much in the way of roars, teeth, eyes or claws, so I suppose in comparison to them the name Wild Thing applies to us at least a little.

Thanks to the mysterious knowledge a strange little drawing popped into my mind. Two fat alligators are sunning along a river bank next to a broken boat and bits of torn cloth and other debris. The one alligator says to the other "that was incredible! No fur, no claws, no horns, no scales…just soft and pink!" Disturbing but true, because if all humans are like Max I imagine they run the risk of being eaten all the time since they're like little hors d'oeuvres with no way to defend themselves.

You can just stop yelling "digression" because like I said before, I can't hear you.


	9. The Plan Concluded

Douglas paused to give Carol time to process what he had just heard. Carol looked at each of us in turn, then at the bones, and I saw something that looked like tears at the corners of his eyes. He was buying this! And he was moved to think we selflessly fell upon alien beings with potentially awesome powers – one of them a frigging king no less – and possibly at great risk to ourselves, in order to protect him. My plan no longer seemed so outrageous.

Carol sniffed a couple of times, then sighed and shook his head softly. He asked why we hadn't come to tell him what had happened, and why we wanted to hide the evidence and keep the whole thing a secret.

Douglas hesitated for a moment and to my surprise Ira jumped in and said we were afraid to tell him because we knew how badly he wanted a king. Judith said this alien looked to be a real bastard and had threatened to kill Carol, but even so once we regained our composure we worried about how angry Carol would be at our having dispatched a possible king, since he had been wanting one so badly. Each of us then made little agreeing statements along this line, but always adding that we did what we did on instinct, and to protect Carol. All but KW; she still hadn't spoken a word. I was puzzled why.

Douglas put his hand on Carol's shoulder and said that he accepted full responsibility for what had happened. This display of selfless sincerity was the icing on the cake and Carol visibly relaxed. He sniffed, wiped his eyes with a quick motion as if hoping we wouldn't notice, and actually tried to smile a little. Clearly he was touched to think his family cared about him so much. I actually felt a little guilty. But who knows – maybe we would have done something like that for him if the opportunity actually arose.

Carol looked at the bones again and said he couldn't believe we had sacrificed a king just to protect him. Douglas quickly said we wanted nothing to do with a king who made threats against any of us, and that as far as we were concerned Carol was the only leader we needed. I looked up at Carol with what I hoped was an admiring expression and added that as long as he was there to lead us we would be just fine (now _that_ was acting). Ira and Judith murmured their agreement and the Bull groaned something that sounded like affirmation. At last KW spoke. "It's true" she said in a barely audible tone.

For a while nobody said anything. I don't know why but at that moment I felt closer to the others than I had in a long time. And I was seeing a side to Carol I never knew existed. A vulnerability he had always kept hidden, or which perhaps even he never knew existed. I was having mixed emotions about the plan, and sensed KW was as well. But we must all hang together, so to speak. And not just at that time, but forever. I hoped KW hadn't had a change of heart but my goaty sense was tingling, and I feared she had.

Carol sighed and took a few steps toward the fire pit. After looking at the bones one last time he kicked them into the fire, then picked up the crown and scepter and tossed them in after. He turned and looked at us with a sad but understanding expression. He said that while he wished none of this had happened, what was done was done, and he couldn't fault us for our actions.

He got a little choked up before quickly regaining his composure, then added had he not been away when the alien king appeared he would have accepted its challenge and fought to the death because we deserved a leader that was willing to fight for us, no matter the risk.

All of us moved toward him, talking at once and saying we were sorry about what happened, that we knew he would have done all he could to protect us, and that we never wanted a king anyway. Carol thanked us but said we still needed a king, and for a moment I thought the plan had failed. Could he really still hope for a king after all this?

Carol said we would recognize our true king when he appeared.

I sighed. The plan had failed.

But then he said he would try to be a better leader because we had no way of knowing how long it might be until a true king arrived, and that until it happened he wouldn't talk about it anymore.

The plan had worked! I tried not to smile.

I glanced at KW and was surprised to see how sad she looked. I also felt a pang of regret but it quickly passed as I thought about all the times Carol snapped at me or made me feel overlooked and forgotten. Besides, what harm had we done? As long as Carol never found out it would be OK. Even if he did find out we could possibly pass it all off as an elaborate prank.

Carol mustered a weak smile and said he needed to be alone for a while to think. Douglas nodded and, stepping forward, patted Carol on his upper arm. Carol leaned in and gave Douglas a quick half hug, and they slapped each other on the back a few times.

KW put her hand on his shoulder and tried to smile. She and Carol looked into each other's eyes for several seconds and then shared a long embrace. When they separated KW quickly turned away and I could see she was trying hard not to cry.

Ira extended his hand and Carol took it in both of his, patting it a few times.

Judith started to put her hand on his shoulder but then stooped, but Carol touched her arm and they quickly hugged, after which she pretended to punch him in the jaw. Each managed a weak smile.

Then Carol turned to me. I mustered all my courage and looked him in the eye, hoping that nothing in my face would betray me. He gently grabbed my horns and playfully waggled my head back and forth a few times before putting his hand on my shoulder for just a moment. _Et tu, Alexander_, I thought to myself.

He turned and started toward his hut and the Bull stretched out his arm. They brushed claw tips as Carol walked by.

The six of us watched him walk to his hut. Once he was out of sight we turned toward one another and stood silently together, each no doubt wondering what the others were thinking. No one spoke but all instinctively knew we would never talk about the events of that morning again. For a few long minutes we remained standing together in the glaring angular rays of the rising sun, the lengthening shadows of nearby trees falling between us.

Flies buzzed around the fire pit. My heart grew sick; it was the sight of the bones that made it so.

One by one the others turned and walked away without a word, leaving me alone with my victory. My hollow little victory. Hollow as a goat's horn.


	10. Coronation of King Max

Sorry about the flash backs – I promise never to do it again. But like Lucy chided Ricky "he had some 'splaining to do". I mean about the bones of course. Yeah, I may be a Wild Thing but I'm not a monster, and that goes for the others as well – even Carol.

By the way, after starting to make more paper the thought of handwriting the rest of the story made my poor claws twitch. I knew there must be a better option, and it took some time but I managed to build a writing machine! I'm very pleased with it. I was right about using sticks from the apple trees and they worked great for building the machine. Think I'll call it an Apple.

But then I had to figure out a system to run on the machine and do the actual writing, and it turned out willow sticks worked best because they're very small, slender and pliable. I call it Microsoft Wood. I'm all set now – no more stick pens and writer's cramp. I just have to pay a few squirrels to keep running on the wheel that powers the machine. They work for nuts so it's fairly easy to do. If I run out of nuts I'll just threaten to eat them. I won't of course, I'm trying to reform – but they don't know it.

But about the plan…I can't help thinking I forgot to mention something. Oh well, must not be very important if I can't think of it. Never mind.

Before I flashed back we were about to crown Max king. I was a bit perplexed he wanted to go ahead with it after Carol's feeble explanation of the bones. But I guess many of us try to ignore disturbing things we don't fully understand in the hope that blind optimism will carry the day and all's well that ends well. That's why I'm not much of an optimist. I'm not actually a pessimist or anything; call me a realist.

So here we are, at the coronation, not long after Max arrived.

Carol gently lowered the crown onto Max's head and said "you are the king, and you will be a truly great king". I certainly hoped it was true but a sliver of doubt stuck in my mind like those prickly little burrs stick in my fur when I walk in tall grass. As I watched the coronation the words "uneasy lies the head that wears a crown" popped into my mind. If Max only knew! If any of us could have known! As it turned out the phrase should have been "uneasy the lying head that wears a crown". I've forgiven Max, but as you may have noticed I'm still a bit hurt when I think about the lies he told us. No doubt it will pass with time.

I was starting to warm to the idea of King Max and allowed myself to get caught up in the excitement of the moment. Besides, the others were keen to have a king and I didn't want to be a stick in the mud. Remember I said I try not to go against the grain. I have an independent mind but that doesn't mean I don't want to belong and all.

Still, given that only six or so months earlier I had fabricated the story about a king suddenly turning up it's at least a little odd the six of us accepted Max's story without asking more questions. But Carol had taken the lead and it was easier to just follow along. Have you ever looked back at something that seemed to make sense at the time and kicked yourself for not seeing how things really were? Well, there you are.

The Bull picked up Max by the scruff of his wolf suit and nearly brained him on a tree before setting him down on a ruined hut. It wasn't very dignified, but it was funny. Max seemed to take it in stride and didn't swear or anything. Hell, I would have. I like to swear just a little because it helps me cope with the frustration of being ignored all the damn time. See, it just creeps in. I guess it becomes habit.

The others started hooting and hollering their satisfaction and chanting "king" but I didn't join them. Now that I think of it, neither did KW. Yeah, I was cautiously hopeful but still not ready to start cheering.

Carol asked Max what his first order of business would be and I expected him to say he planned to set up court or maybe convene a committee to begin formulating a few laws and regulations. You know, something practical like that. But instead he paused for dramatic effect, raised the scepter above his head and shouted "let the wild rumpus begin". Wait…no, he said "let the wild rumpus start". That's strange, it seems like he should have said "begin" instead of "start". Never mind, it's not important.

Sure we had had rumpuses before, many times. But never by royal decree, and the others went wild. It's not how I would have started my reign if crowned king, but I suppose there are worse things a new king might command. At least he didn't order us to build a gigantic white elephant of a fort or separate into warring factions and try to kill each other with dirt clods. That's called foreshadowing. And really, the fort was OK. In fact I actually came to love the fort. I wasn't so wild about the war thing. Now that's probably too much foreshadowing, and I'm getting my tenses mixed up. Forget about that stuff for now.

Anyway, you don't have to tell us twice to rumpus and Max kicked it off by leaping onto Carol's head and then bouncing onto Ira. I'll skip the details of the next several minutes of frantic rumpusing, but looking back I'm reminded of what a famous critic once wrote when reviewing a certain comedy team: "The Marx Brothers and their various relatives ran around the stage for 20 minutes; why, I have no idea." It was pretty much like that. All that was missing was a soundtrack featuring "Rump Shaker" by Wreckx-N-Effect. I'm not saying it wasn't fun to watch, but I didn't join in much. KW also stood by and only watched. I guess she and I just aren't so quick to jump into what the others are doing.

Soon the sky showed the first faint light of day and Max ran off into the woods and called for us to follow. It felt good to run flat out through the trees, my heart pounding and lungs filling with the cool morning air. Everyone was whooping and laughing, and at one point we made circles around a large tree and raked it with our claws sending showers of bark and splinters everywhere. Take that you stupid tree! Hey, I wonder if that's what tree hugging means?

Max led the way toward the cliffs overlooking the sea, with Carol and Ira right behind him. The rest of us joined them, and everyone began howling into the rising sun. Now I was fully caught up in the euphoria of the moment and howled and yowled every bit as much as the others. "I re-echoed, I aided, I surpassed them in volume and in strength." Even Max managed a few respectable howls, for a non-Wild Thing. In keeping with his costume he sounded a bit wolfy.

Looking back, I have mixed feelings of contentment and loss when remembering that morning. How wonderful to have stood at the very edge of our world, howling at first light with my kin and king, the sea-salted air blowing through my fur. At the time I felt so alive and full of promise, as if some shining new epoch had arrived with Max and the dawn. If only that moment could have lasted forever. "For of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these: 'It might have been!" Tell me about it.


	11. A Real Pile

The satisfied howling continued for several minutes. Suddenly Carol stopped howling and bounded away, calling for Max to follow him. Leave it to Carol to spoil the moment. Gradually we all stopped howling and I saw Max running after Carol, and soon both disappeared into the woods.

I decided to follow. As I caught up I saw Carol showboating to Max by jumping high into the air. OK Carol, so you can jump. Good for you. Sadly, I can't. White goat-like Wild Things can't jump. But Carol's attempt backfired and he smashed his head into a tree branch which sent him careening to the ground with the branch on top of him. Good for you, tree. Carol got up and tried to make a joke out of it.

I was a little irritated with him for ruining the moment at the cliff, and with Max for so quickly abandoning the rest of us to run after Carol. I know it was a bit kiddish but as I walked by I made a snarky remark along the lines of "look, everyone wants to be friends with the new guy" to let them both know what I thought. Of course when I said "everyone" I really meant myself since I wanted Max to be my friend too. Then to my horror I realized I had a small tree branch stuck on my head. How frigging embarrassing.

Judith, Ira and Douglas were all abusing trees so I decided to show Max that I could do the same. I shouted for everyone to watch and then ran as fast as I could toward one of the larger trees. I think I shouted "I hate this tree" to psyche myself up or something. For some reason I assumed I could knock it down or at least make a large hole in it like Ira and Douglas do. Well I was wrong. Despite my sturdy horns and best effort I just bounced off the tree and crumpled to the ground. Now I know what seeing stars means. If only I had picked a sapling. Well so much for impressing Max. And now you know why I hate trees and all.

While on the ground recovering I saw Max and Carol talking with Douglas. Then Carol threw Douglas high into the air (more shameless showboating) and as Carol walked away from Max Ira stepped up behind. He introduced himself to the king and they shook hands.

I stood up, shook my head to clear away the stars and called Judith hoping she would check me over and make sure I was OK and not spurting blood out my ears or any other orifice. When she didn't come I started walking toward Max and Ira. Now I saw the best thing to do was just walk right up to Max, give him my best smile, put out my hand and introduce myself like Ira had done.

Judith got there before me and Ira introduced her to Max. Even better, I thought, I'll have Ira introduce me which would seem more casual and keep me from looking too eager or needy. I peaked around Ira and suggested he might introduce me to the king, but he and Judith just ignored me. So did Max. What a surprise! Alexander ignored! But really, it makes sense. After all, a largish goat-like creature with big curved horns and white fur shinning in the sun is so hard to see. I felt my face getting warm, and it wasn't the sun.

Douglas and his cat Timber decided to play "timber" (a game in which the object is to knock over a tree and crush anyone nearby; look for the exciting home edition), and they nearly got Max and Ira. At the time I wouldn't have minded seeing Max squashed like a bug, but now I feel a little bad for having thought that.

After a little while Max decided to jump KW which got my attention, because KW doesn't like that sort of thing. I wondered if she might bite his head off or something. Perhaps Max's reign would be shorter than anyone expected. But surprisingly KW laughed and didn't commit regicide or anything, and again I wondered if Max might actually have special powers after all.

Carol was so amazed to see KW laughing and roughhousing with Max that he leaped on them and in his haste nearly squashed Max, but KW yanked him out of the way just in time. Well I knew where this was headed. Yep, real pile time. We hadn't had a real pile in ages.

Ira or Douglas leapt next, can't remember and not important anyway, and since I can't leap like the others Judith picked me up and hurled me onto the pile. I had to laugh despite my prior irritation because I love being thrown by her and flying through the air and all. Of course that sudden stopping part at the end isn't as fun. Judith leapt after throwing me, and the Bull sort of flopped on top. It was a real pile, no doubt about it.

We had been awake all night and now began to feel very sleepy in the comfort and warmth of the pile. I could hear KW and Max talking but couldn't make out everything they said. I heard Max asking questions but KW shifted the conversation back to him and got him talking about where he came from. I only heard some of it and what I did hear didn't make much sense; something about frozen corn, and Max having no plans to eat anyone. Like he could eat us! But if he really did have special powers, perhaps he could. Naw, he was far too small for that, unless the double re-cracker had some sort of food processor function.

I heard several of the others yawn and knew they were also tired and ready for sleep. Carol wished KW goodnight and each of us said our goodnights in turn. Thankfully no one said "goodnight John Boy" because I hate that joke like hell! I kept waiting for someone to wish Max goodnight, but nobody did. At first I thought well I'm not going to say goodnight to him, but then I relented. No point in making him feel left out, and I hoped to get on the right track with him later. I said "goodnight king" and the others realized the oversight and added their own "goodnight king" as well.

It was good to be in a pile again, and despite all the excitement of having a new king my eyes grew heavy and I had to close them. Soon I drifted off to sleep and dreamed all manner of strange dreams. But none were as strange as the reality of the preceding few hours – or of the things to come. No, not even in my wildest dreams could I have imagined the things to come!


	12. Max Decrees the Fort

I don't know how long we slept, but when I awoke the sun was high overhead. For a split second I wasn't sure why I had been sleeping in the woods rather than my hut, but in an instant everything came back to me. Max's arrival and all the craziness that followed had gotten mixed up with my dreams, and for just a moment I wasn't sure what was real and what had been in my dreams. But reality soon pushed and shoved its way to the front, as it always does.

I yawned, carefully rubbed my eyes (given my claws I always think of that stupid Captain Hook joke) and tried to recall the details of the dream. But as so often the case the particulars fled like chaff before the wind, and what had made sense in dream form now seemed vague and incoherent.

There had been a strange, cold place with a rectangular building that looked like a giant hut but with smooth walls, lots of color and a bunch of bizarre looking objects all around. Later in the dream I heard a woman's voice frantically calling Max's name and felt panicked and afraid as I listened. Then a small sailboat tossing on an endless ocean was coming toward the island, and another voice said something like "sleeper, awake". And then I woke up.

Most of the dream had already faded away but I knew parts of it had been ominous, like something terrible might happen. I tried to put it all out of my mind, and in the warm light of midday I easily shook it off, and in no time it all seemed irrelevant and even a bit silly.

As I got up I saw Max and KW were still asleep, curled up next to each other with Carol next to them but awake. Ira and Judith had already left the pile and were talking together in hushed tones, I guess so as not to wake Max. Douglas and the Bull were nowhere in sight.

Carol saw me get up and put his claw to his lips signaling me to keep quiet. I stretched and walked over to where Judith and Ira were sitting but they took no notice of me. After a few minutes I realized KW was now awake and saw Carol whisper something to her. She nodded and Carol very gently lifted Max and cradled him against his shoulder. With Max still asleep Carol started walking toward the interior of the island. The king was certainly a heavy sleeper, unless we had crushed him to death as we slept. To my relief I saw him move his hand a little.

I asked Judith and Ira where Carol was going with Max but they ignored me. I asked again but Judith only shrugged and turned back toward Ira. I started to follow Carol but KW called my name so I turned back toward her. She told me Carol wanted time alone with the new king, to give him a tour of the island, and said I shouldn't follow. I asked why I couldn't go with them but she just made a face that seemed to say "you know Carol". Great, now Carol was going to keep Max all to himself and I would never have a chance to make friends with the king.

KW must have seen the disappointment in my face because she got up and put her hand on my upper arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. Of course I felt better right away. She suggested we go to the beach which was thoughtful of her because she knows I love rolling in the warm sand. In fact we all enjoy doing it and the sand helps clean our fur and all. Judith and Ira said they'd join us and as we walked by the ruined huts we saw Douglas and the Bull there surveying the damage. We told them where we were headed and they decided to come along, and soon all six of us were headed toward our favorite strip of beach.

After a few hours Douglas whistled to get our attention (he can do any bird call; you should hear his spotted whistling duck impersonation) and pointed toward one of the dunes. Max was kneeling in the sand making marks with his scepter as Carol looked on. We followed Douglas and as we got within earshot I heard Carol say something about not eating his feet off. I had no idea what in the world he was talking about but Douglas just asked why, as if he understood, and Carol said Max had decided we would build a fortress. So it looked like the king was finally starting to put some grand plans into action.

Max had drawn a crude sketch of the fort in the sand and was excitedly describing everything he planned to build. I have to be honest, much of it sounded ridiculous and I started to seriously question his knowledge of basic architectural design and construction. I mean, it sounded like something a kid would come up with, not a king that had reined for 20 years. One thing he wanted to build was a swimming pool. Really? A pool? We were standing next to the ocean and he was talking about building a pool. Coals to Newcastle.

I won't even mention some of the other things Max suggested, and most of them went right out of my head anyway when I heard him say the fort would automatically cut out the brains of anyone that wasn't supposed to get in. Security is one thing but this sounded a bit extreme. I wondered who Max meant by "anyone" and just exactly how the building would know which brains to cut out and which to leave alone. It seemed kind of important so I asked the question out loud but no one commented, or even acknowledged having heard me.

I had a horrifying mental image of casually strolling into the fort one day only to hear alarms sounding "Intruder Alert! Intruder Alert" just before a set of automated knives descends to slice off the top of my head and scoop out my poor brains. I order the fort to stop but an eerily calm voice says "I'm sorry Alexander, I'm afraid I can't do that" and a split second later I'm de-brained and ready to vote Democrat (and you know how I feel about jackasses). Why would anyone want to build something so horrible?

Max went on to describe other crazy stuff I don't remember while drawing in the sand, and at one point he bumped the Bull's foot with the scepter. The Bull looked down and for a moment we all paused and starred at him to see if he might actually say something for once. I wanted him to ask about the brain cutting machine and thought "come on you silent bastard, back me up! Maybe they'll listen to you!" but he just groaned (ooh, what a surprise) and Max continued talking and drew around his foot. Wait, I just realized why the fort tower looks like a crescent. Never mind, not important.

I stood there in disbelief. Max was asking Ira a question but I tried to interrupt and said I didn't want my brains cut out. I assumed the others didn't want their brains cut out either, but again they all just ignored me. In fact, Ira said the fort was already making him happy. What the hell? The idea of a building that might turn on him faster than a Rottweiler and rip his head open was making him happy?

I'm used to being ignored but normally Judith or someone would tell me to be quiet which showed they had at least heard me make a sound. But now they were ignoring me to the point of absurdity, and for a second I wondered if a hole had opened in the space-time continuum and was absorbing the sound of my voice.

That's it, I'd had enough. Screw them if they wanted to play Russian roulette with their brains! Whatever happened would be on their heads, literally. Just don't come crying to me when you're lying in a pool of blood and goo with the top of your head off and your brains oozing into the dirt. I made a mental note to build some sort of hardhat out of the toughest sticks I could find.

But of course I never had to make the hat because later I realized Max was only brainstorming about the brain cutting device and we never built it. I'm just telling what I thought at the time because it's all part of the story. One good thing that came from the whole experience with Max is that I'm now far less gullible than I once was.

Max finished his excited description of the fort, paused, and asked us what we thought. It was nice to be asked but I also knew it was a mistake, because if you ask the seven of us what we think you'll get a dozen opinions. Surprisingly, this time only Judith spoke up and said she didn't think it could work, but then sounded a more positive note by adding she liked sleeping in a real pile. Not that it had anything to do with the fort.

Max looked at Carol and earnestly asked if he would be in charge of building the fort. Well it wasn't as if he was going to ask me. But I didn't want the job and wasn't the best choice anyway. I'm excellent at stick weaving and small, detailed work but don't have experience with big building projects. Nope, I have to admit either Carol or Douglas was the obvious choice, and of course Douglas always plays Mr. Smithers to Carol's Mr. Burns.

He hesitated to accept but I knew it was probably just posturing. Believe me, Carol loves calling the shots. Douglas said Carol was the only one that could pull off the project, and while I knew he wanted to encourage and support his best friend I thought it sounded a little like sucking up. Douglas is always trying to make Carol feel important. I have no idea what it must be like to have someone in your corner all the time.

Max asked KW for her opinion and she said Carol was the only one that could handle the build. Naturally Carol agreed with them. Judith cinched it when she threatened to take on the job if Carol didn't. I'd like to see that. I love Judith but she's to impulsive to pull off something that complicated, and the moment a problem arose would most likely loose it and bludgeon the nearest person with whatever object was at hand.

Carol finally accepted and didn't waste any time getting started. That very afternoon he, Douglas and Max began surveying the perimeter while the rest of us gathered materials. Naturally I was posted to the stick finding detail because (say it with me) _I'm good at finding sticks_. Wow, I feel like someone is actually getting to know me for once. Too bad I picked up a bundle of sticks with a wasp's nest in it. I can just imagine how funny it must have been to watch a big (well, biggish) bad Wild Thing madly swatting away at tiny little insects, but it beats getting the living hell stung out of you.

All of us are very strong, but the Bull and Carol are probably the strongest and they worked on gathering the large tree trunks and rocks we needed. Ira worked at digging the tunnels while KW broke larger tree branches into smaller beams. All of us are actually pretty good builders and after only a few hours the construction area showed considerable progress.

As we worked on what was already a massive project Max continued to ramble on about all sorts of wacky features he wanted added to the fort. If we had tried to build exactly what he wanted it would have taken us forever. To their credit, Carol and Douglas just focused on what could actually be done with the materials and time available. It was purely a shake n' bake operation, and I helped.

But I won't go into all the details of the build. Just picture lots of quarrying, lifting, carrying, digging, shifting and other verbs ending with "ing" related to a major building project. It was amazing how much of the fort we completed in a surprisingly short (and unspecified) period of time. There must be some written equivalent to a visual montage but I have no idea how to do it, so anyone reading this can just fill in the gaps as best they can.

The fort was shaping up nicely and I for one thought it was beautiful. The basic design was inspired by our rounded huts but the scale was unlike anything we'd ever attempted. My stick weaving added a dynamic, organic appearance to the fort, and was some of my best handiwork if I do say so myself. And I just did. But my favorite contribution was the hundreds of red flowers we added to break up all the earth tones. Yeah that was my idea. Plus we could snack on them. Sometimes you have to take time to stop and eat the flowers.

No doubt about it, the fort was a great idea, and I looked forward to living in it. Hell, I was even ready to forgive Carol for destroying the huts. But of course that was before I knew he would soon want to honor us with an encore performance of his hackneyed and poorly received _Magnum Opus_, Out of Control Concerto No. 1 in A-flat-hut major, but this time featuring the fort. When it comes to uncontrollable rage and senseless destruction Carol is quite the maestro. Yeah, a regular Ludwig van Jackass.


	13. Beware the Green Eyed Monster

At the end of my last writing I screwed up and mentioned something about Carol wanting to destroy the fort. Sorry for the spoiler. I really like the foreshadowing thingy and have already used it a few times, but letting you know the fort might be in danger even before we finished building it might have been a bit clumsy.

Anyway, now you know Carol had (or from your perspective, will have) another conniption fit that could threaten the fort. But put it out of your mind for now because it's in the future. Well, not really the future since it already happened; I mean in the future in this writing, but my past.

I never thought about it but this writing thing is almost like a form of time travel. I can zoom backward and forward through all the time I've ever known and drop you down wherever and whenever I want. Behold the awesome power of Alexander! I'm like H.G. frigging Wells or something. Just kidding.

As a reminder, "kidding" is NOT a goat pun, and I just say that to let you in on my stupid little jokes. I try never to do puns; remember what Oscar Wilde said about them being the lowest form of humor or whatever. Actually, I'm a little like Oscar Wilde on account of my dry wit and all (would that make me a Wilde Thing?). But of course without the gayness because I'm a straightgoat. No, not _scapegoat_, straightgoat. Well I am sometimes made the scapegoat when anything goes wrong around here which is practically all the time.

By the way, goatscaping is when I groom my fur, but let's not go down the TMI road again. I should probably dial down the goat references, since I'm only part goat and part…well, we don't really know, do we?

Back to the writing-as-time-travel-thing; anyone can do it, if they know how to write. I was the first to take to writing but I think a few of the others have also figured it out. I saw Carol practicing writing in the sand once but he rubbed it out when he saw me watching and pretended like he was digging for clams or something. Hey buddy, good luck making paper and a squirrel powered writing machine! I'm way ahead of you there.

What the hell was I going to write about before I got so distracted? Oh right, the fort.

Work on the fort continued at a frenzied pace and I have to admit Carol and Douglas did a great job keeping things on track. Everyone did their bit; well, mostly everyone. Max helped a little, but really his strength and building skills are just nothing like ours. I guess you can say he supervised, which is a polite way of saying he pretty much just talked the entire time, drank coffee and watched us work. That's management for you. Just kidding about the coffee, we don't even have any here. But since the fort was Max's idea I guess he did do his bit after all.

Now I'm thinking about coffee, which is odd since I've never even seen any (more damn useless MK). But for some strange reason I almost feel like I've tried it before.* Maybe we can grow coffee and hire Juan Valdez to come pick it for us. He can leave his donkey at home and just saddle up Carol instead. I could really go for a cup of java right about now. And I mean real coffee, not some ridiculous fru-fru monstrosity like a septuple Ristretto Espresso Macchiato, brewed from über-organic beans grown in the ruins of Palenque and picked at the seventh hour of the seventh day of the seventh month by red-haired Pygmy virgins, ludicrously hot, sub-skinny free-range unicorn milk with polyhedral honeycomb structured foam, organic Saguaro and Eucalyptus syrup, layered, and stirred with a splinter from the Ark of the Covenant. _Give me a break!_

Max also helped by humming tunes and singing songs for us which kept the mood upbeat and everyone's spirits high. I'm just thankful he didn't whistle while we worked as that would have been a bit too much. Although a legion of little laboring woodland creatures would have been damn useful, especially birds to fly in building materials. I asked Douglas if he knew the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow since I wondered if we could use them for transporting sticks or something, but he asked if I meant an African or European swallow and for some reason I was afraid to answer that. Speaking of birds, duck tape would have really come in handy.

One song Max sang that I really liked had the line "All is Love", and I like to think we built the fort with love. I'm speaking figuratively there because we built the fort mostly out of tree trunks, about a zillion sticks, mud stucco and nipa palm glue. I love the smell of nipa palm in the morning!

Max's type of music was new to us, but we already had our own kind of music before he arrived. During those rare times when the seven of us aren't bickering and KW is around we sometimes harmonize our voices for hours. We don't sing words or anything, like Max showed us, but just sort of blend our voices into melodic tones that are actually very complex. † Think J.S. Bach counterpoint complex. We can only do it when all seven participate. We performed for Max one night at the fort and he seemed genuinely amazed and said it was one of the most beautiful things he'd ever heard.

One afternoon as work on the fort began to slow something happened that really rained on our parade. Everyone had been getting along since Max decreed the fort, and for the most part it had been a happy couple of days. Even Mr. Grumpy Carol was more like his old self. I had also been almost cheerful, except for that time everyone ignored the hell out of me when I tried to warn about the brain cutting thing. Anyway, most of the others were on a break, but since I often had to wait until the heavy beams were in place to do my stick weaving I was still working on top of a wall and had a good view of everything.

Judith and Ira were resting together at the tunnel opening and the Bull was working on the tower just above them. Douglas was somewhere at the other end of the fort and KW was away gathering sticks.

Max and Carol had just finished installing hundreds of red flowers along a perimeter wall and were reclining together admiring their work. The flowers were my idea but of course I meant they should go in after the fort was completed, but at least they had half way listened to me. I'll take what I can get in the "OK, let's grudgingly acknowledge that we heard Alexander speak and not ignore him to the point of absurdity so that he will wonder if a hole has opened in the space-time continuum and is absorbing the sound of his voice" department. Even the dogs are happy to eat the crumbs that fall from the master's table and all.

The pace had slowed and as the day moved into late afternoon the place had a general atmosphere of quiet relaxation. I chuckled to see Carol had a flower in his mouth, and noted that with Max around he seemed truly at ease for the first time in a long while. I even allowed myself to forgo my usual skepticism about things improving and strayed into cautious optimism, wondering if we might actually begin to enjoy a new era of unity and harmony with Max as our king (poor self-deluded fool that I was!). That damn goat sense comes and goes without so much as a by-your-leave-sir.

Max took Carol by the hand, and using one of his claws began scratching on a large log at the base of the wall. At first I was puzzled but then realized he was carving something into the wood. Carol seemed curious and just let Max guide his hand, and a moment later Max finished. Carol looked at the log, smiled, and began to carve something of his own. Later I went to see what they had done and found a capital letter "M" surrounded by a heart shape. I can only assume Max wrote his initial and Carol added the heart. Elementary, my dear Watson.

Getting back to what I was saying, after Max saw what Carol had carved he grinned like a Cheshire cat and threw his arms around Carol's neck. Carol closed his eyes and put his arm on Max's back. For a second I wasn't sure what the hell to think and was afraid Max would say something like "oh Carol darling, you've made me the happiest king in the world! I shan't ever forget this moment" or something equally disturbing. Kidding again, I knew it was some sort of father/son bonding moment. Or maybe favorite Wild Thing/king. Something like that anyway.

But to tell the truth the next moment that green-eyed monster, jealousy, began clawing at my mind and I felt my anger rising. From the very beginning I had suspected Max favored Carol, and now there could be no doubt. Thanks for rubbing it in, you thoughtless bastards. I started to shout "get a room" at them just to be hateful, but didn't.

Then Carol did something that stopped my anger cold. He began to howl, and it was unlike any sound I'd ever heard him utter before. It was similar to the howling we had all done together at the cliff the morning Max arrived, but there was something in it that I just couldn't put my claw on, something somber, soulful and full of warmth. That howl and the expression I saw on Carol's face sent the green-eyed monster packing, and all my anger and resentment fled like mice from a burning hut. Sure, I wished Max cared about me like he did Carol, but even though I was on the outside looking in I couldn't help but be moved by the way they seemed to connect at that moment. Damn I'm such a softie, don't tell anyone.

Then I noticed Judith starring at them with an annoyed look and knew in an instant the green-eyed monster had found alternate prey. As Max and Carol returned to work I watched Judith and didn't like the way she kept glaring at Max. I know her, and feared what she might do. The others seemed oblivious; Ira nuzzled her shoulder, Bull worked on the tower, Carol was now preoccupied with a large tree trunk and Max messed with a pile of sticks near a wall. By the way his stick weaving left a lot to be desired and I had to redo about half of all his work. I'll let you guess if he ever thanked me.

After a few minutes Judith made the "psst" sound to Max and he looked in her direction. She held up a hand and made the "come here" signal with her claw, and I wondered if Max would just imperiously ignore her or oblige and approach. Max sort of narrowed his eyes, scowled and then made a show of looking all around before saying "you talkin' to me? You talkin' to me? Then who the hell else are you talkin' to?" Naw, he didn't say that, it just popped into my head as I watched. But I almost wish he had said it.

Max hesitated but then slowly walked toward her. Ira seemed disinterested and the Bull just watched and said nothing. Why did I even mention that? Of course he only watched and said nothing, that's what he does. Sometimes it really irritates me and I don't even know why.

I was too far away to hear the conversation but could see Judith talking and gesturing at Max, and from his body language it was clear he wasn't pleased with what she was saying. Judith scowled as she talked and Max fidgeted a bit. Then she appeared to laugh, but not in a pleasant way. Max imitated her laugh which seemed to really tick her off. I hoped Max would take the high ground and refuse to spar with her. Judith curled her lips and sarcastically laughed again, and Max responded in kind. Each exchange was louder and longer than the last, until they were all but shouting at each other.

Then I noticed Carol had stopped working and was also watching, just standing there still holding a large beam. He looked upset but said nothing.

Judith opened her mouth wider with each retort, as did Max, and their loud, sardonic cries of "ha ha ha" echoed throughout the canyon. Max wasn't going to back down after all, and at one point he actually leaned in close to Judith's open mouth while shouting at her, which was brave but also incredibly stupid. Careful Chum, she's like a Great White, and if you want to get that close you're going to need a bigger boat.

In a tone reminiscent of his aforementioned "be still" command Max managed a final volley of mock laughter that actually silenced Judith, and her face registered genuine surprise. But Max's victory was short lived, and what I had feared now came to pass. Judith totally went off on him, and this time I caught some of what she said, despite their distance from me. She shouted something about it being her job to get upset, and that it was his job to let her eat him if that's what she wanted to do, and other such nonsense.

Max said nothing and stood with his head slightly down. It looked like Judith had gotten the better of him. No one said anything. It was an uncomfortable moment and I felt bad for him. Was this any way to treat a king? And why did he put up with it? I remembered his stories about exploding giant Viking heads and powers from ancient times, but at that moment he didn't look very kingly or invincible. Once again I found doubt gnawing at my mind.

I hadn't noticed KW return but suddenly she was there, just in time to witness the final exchange between Max and Judith. KW said something to Max and he turned toward her, then both started to walk away. Judith lunged, grabbed Max by the ankle, held up her hand to his face and said something to him, but I couldn't hear it. My muscles tensed, as if preparing me to spring into action, but I was too far away to do anything and remained as I was.

KW pulled Max away while stomping her foot down on Judith's wrist just hard enough to make her let go. Judith shouted and released her grip, allowing Max to take a few steps back. KW leaned in and said something to Judith, but since KW remained calm the whole time and never shouted or anything I couldn't hear what she said.

As KW and Max walked away Judith shouted after them, and this time I heard her just fine. She said "you think you have power, KW?" or something similar. KW just ignored her and kept walking. Judith shouted "I'm talking to you" but KW made no sign of having heard her, but Max turned his head and looked back. "No, not you – still talking to KW" shouted Judith, which was actually a little funny when I look back at it.

Remember when I said my name is ironic because I didn't do much to protect Max? Well this was one time when I could have at least tried. But Carol also just stood there and said nothing. That really surprised me because it seemed like he should have been the first to defend Max. All of us just sat there and did nothing. I've seen Carol stand up to Judith plenty of times, so why not then?

KW never said another word and just walked with Max out of the fort toward the woods, her head held high. "She walks in beauty, like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies; and all that's best of dark and bright meet in her aspect and her eyes." I don't think I ever loved her more than at that moment.

Judith seethed. Ira put his hand on her shoulder but she flung it away. Carol remained standing exactly as he had been the whole time, still holding the large tree trunk, a pained expression I couldn't quite read spreading across his face. He blinked a few times then slowly lowered his head and looked at the ground. Perhaps he felt ashamed, or was just upset to see someone else ruin the peace instead of him. I can understand if that's what was going through his mind; but I can't judge him without condemning myself.

Carol sighed, dropped the beam, and slowly shuffled away. Judith and Ira slipped into the tunnel and out of sight. The Bull had descended from the tower without my having noticed and I caught a glimpse of him in the distance as he climbed out of the ravine.

I was alone. For several minutes I sat, unmoving, listening to the mournful sound of the wind howling through the skeleton of the uncompleted fort. Then I picked up a stick and halfheartedly began to weave it into the wall.

* * *

*_Alexander is correct; he has had coffee before. In an alternate universe while in Max's world he discovered coffee in all its caffeinated splendor. Read about it in the story "Alexander Discovers Coffee" by __TheCheshireCatFemaleWildThing__ in the WTWTA section of this site. My thanks to TCCFWT for the idea. QS_

†_The musical abilities of the Wild Things are not explored in the movie and are taken from the novel "The Wild Things" by Dave Eggers (chapter XXXVIII)._


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